


Sit, Stay

by hostagesfic



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Plug, Comeplay, Dom/sub, Felching, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Overstimulation, Rimming, Subspace, light pet play, ot5 undertones - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 17:37:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/801339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hostagesfic/pseuds/hostagesfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not like Louis has <i>left</i> him- Harry’s never had abandonment issues or anything of the sort, and Louis knows what he likes and doesn’t like, but there’s only so long he can just <i>wait</i> on edge. He almost calls out for Louis, has a pathetic, whimpery little <i>Lou</i> caught in his throat when the door opens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sit, Stay

**Author's Note:**

> This has been almost-finished in our docs since mid-ish April; it's about time we posted it! We wish we could tell you exactly what inspired it and when, but... it's been a while. Big thanks to a lady named Louisa @ladzfm for reading this and telling us it didn't suck! **Edit:** Thanks to commenter Jen, who pointed out that some elements could be seen as dubious consent/manipulation of a situation/insufficient kink negotiation by the Dominant partner. While this was unintentional, we apologize to anyone who may've found it to be troubling and have since tagged it to reflect this possibility.

Harry can _hear_ FIFA in the front. There’s laughter, too, and it only serves to remind him of how alone he is in the back lounge, bent over with a fluffy white tail between his arsecheeks. Staying still was nice at first, felt comfortable with his plug in like a promise, warming with the pleasure of following orders, of being _good_ , but now Harry wants more. The vibrator of his plug is still humming steady at a slight buzz, but it's not against his prostate like he wants and he can't squirm to get it in deeper and-

And he _has_ to hold onto what Louis said, has to repeat the words in his head. It’s not like Louis has _left_ him- Harry’s never had abandonment issues or anything of the sort, and Louis knows what he likes and doesn’t like, but there’s only so long he can just _wait_ on edge. He almost calls out for Louis, has a pathetic, whimpery little _Lou_ caught in his throat when the door opens. 

"Oh!” Liam says, and Harry's going to apologize but the vibes turn up a notch and he yelps instead. 

Liam doesn’t move, frozen just inside the doorway, and his voice squeaks a little too when he speaks. "Er- Louis said I should- come help you out- with this thing? You were working on? But- um."

"Did he," Harry whines, groans because dammit, Louis, of course he fucking would.

"I can... go-" Liam says, hesitantly, even though he's stepping closer, like he can't help but want to see better.

They've done things like this before- Louis' told Liam to "have a go" or "try him out", but. It's always been in a group environment, always with Louis there as a sort of buffer. Louis' always directly _said_. Harry can't really form words because the- his tail plug keeps going, the soft brush of the fur against his bum in high contrast against the pressure inside, and Liam's still _right there_ and it's embarrassing in all the right ways, his arse up in the air and his hair sweaty just from keeping still. He whimpers and looks up at Liam with pleading eyes to do- something, anything, _please._

Liam swallows and lets out a deep breath, his lip popping out spit-slick from where he's been holding it between his teeth. He crouches down by the sofa at Harry's head, sweeping the hair back from his face gently. "Do you- want me to get Louis?" he asks, gruffly. "I don't have to- it was probably just for a laugh-"

Harry doesn't really know what he wants. He wants to be good, and he doesn't know if it'll upset Louis if he lets liam help him, or if he asks Liam to call Louis, but Louis _did_ send Liam, so like. "Get Lou," he huffs, finally, "but- come back?"

Liam nods and pecks a quick kiss to Harry's cheek. He always looks like it's a surprise when he does that, something of the other boys' that's rubbed off on him and stuck but still is a bit unfamiliar.

He closes the door quietly behind him when he leaves, and at the same time the latch catches, the vibrations go up a notch.

Harry muffles a sob into the cushions, because it feels so good but it's not nearly enough- and then they're gone, off, nothing, and there's just the stretch of the plug and Harry gasps, because that's just. That's just.

Infinite seconds later, the door opens, and Harry doesn't have to open his eyes to know it's Louis, this time. He walks over and sits down on the sofa beside Harry's head, pets through the damp curls at the nape of his neck. "Hey, love," he murmurs. "How're you doing, then? Liam said you wanted to see me? You couldn't wait for me?"

Harry sighs sadly, defeated- but also a bit relieved, really, to have Louis back. He shakes his head, rests his cheek on the seat to peer up at Louis. "No," he mumbles, pouty.

Louis frowns at him, just slightly, and tugs a handful of curls gently. "I told you I wanted to finish my game with Zayn," he says. "And I sent Liam for you. What's the matter?"

“Liam's not you," Harry manages. His hands aren't bound but Louis told him not to move- but he _has_ to, reaches out a tentative hand, looking for Louis' and trying not to move anything else. He doesn't want to be bad.

"No-o," Louis agrees, looking to the doorway, and Harry realizes that Liam must still be standing there. He flushes, but can't really backpedal. Louis squeezes Harry’s fingers with one hand and pets the back of his neck soothingly with the other. "But I sent him to take care of you. I thought you'd want more than your toy after a while, and I needed to finish the game." He tugs at Harry's curls again, this time harder, lifting Harry's head onto his thigh. It's a strain, but Harry nuzzles into the touch. "I should've told you, I guess," Louis admits. "Is that it? I thought you'd get it."

"Yeah," Harry nods, relieved that Lou gets it and doesn't seem mad. "I didn't- sorry, I thought you'd." He feels embarrassed in a bit of an unpleasant way now, hides his face in Louis' thigh. "Sorry," he says, again, muffled.

"You're alright," Louis says, cupping his cheek but not stopping Harry from hiding his face, just holding him. He sighs, and his arm moves above Harry's head, perhaps motioning something. "But I did tell you to wait for me, and now I'll have lost my match, so you'll have to wait a bit longer for my prick, love. You can have Liam and then he'll put you to bed for a nap before the show, yes?"

Harry whines, because he wanted- god, he really wanted Louis to fuck him, and he tried to be so good, but he understands, and. And Liam's nice, Liam can fill him up for a bit, even if he's not Louis. It's what Lou wants, anyway, so he nods against Lou's thigh. He won't ask Louis about after the show anymore, just knows he needs to be extra good and let Liam use him to get off and be great at the show tonight so Lou will reward him later.

Louis taps his fingertips against Harry's jaw sharply, twice, getting his attention, and smiles down at him. "Thank you, Haz. You can come for Liam, if you want. I'd like that. I bet he would too." He raises his eyebrows, over Harry's head, at where Harry can hear Liam shifting from foot to foot by the door. Louis contorts almost impossibly to kiss Harry's forehead briefly before he's moving Harry's head back to the couch cushion and standing up, straightening out his jeans. "Be good for him, pet."

Harry nods, smiles a little at the name- he loves being Louis' pet, and he'll be amazing for Liam.

Louis steps out of Harry's sight, then, but he can still hear him, talking low to Liam. "Be careful with him, yeah? He'll do whatever you like, just be... careful." He pauses, then, and seems to be thinking- "No condom," he says, decisively. "He likes feeling full, and I wanna see him like that after."

Liam makes a weak noise of assent, no more able to deny Louis than Harry is, than any of them are, really. There’s a sound like Louis clapping him on the shoulder, and Louis’ voice is full of smiles when he says, “Put him in my bunk, after, but don’t clean him up.”  

“Yeah,” Liam says, louder this time, and the door clicks again. Harry squirms over the couch arm, because the plug feels way less nice when it’s not vibrating, just holding him open for something he’s already waited so long for. Liam’s still just out of Harry’s peripheral vision, although Harry can hear him take a step closer.

“Li?” he asks, just to be sure, and Liam’s fingers trail up his thigh. Harry quivers, slightly, but doesn’t flail like his nerves want to, because he’s done that with a plug in before and it’s not pleasant. Louis hadn’t told him he could move, either.

“Right here,” Liam says, gruffly. “You’re alright, Hazza?”

“Good,” Harry says, because he is. His thighs are starting to ache, but it’s not bad, and his arse is sore with none of the good bits of fucking, but Louis’ made plans for that to change and it’ll be even _better_ , better than good.

Harry can feel Liam’s hand, the ghost of its warmth and slightest brushes of his fingertips as he plays his fingers through the fluffy tail of his plug, between his arsecheeks. Liam takes a deep breath, and Harry smiles. “D’you like it?”

“Very Playboy,” Liam says, “Or, I mean, I guess. I don’t really- know? But seems like it.” His voice has sped up. “I’m sure you’re better than Playboy.”

Harry should probably clarify that he’s far more likely to be featured in Play _girl_ , but Liam’s thumb brushes the base of the plug, below the fluffy white tail, and it twinges inside him. He can’t help the small whimper that it wrings out of him, either.

“Shit, look at you,” Liam grunts, rubbing his fingers around the base of the plug, playing with the white fur that tickles Harry’s cheeks. “D’you- can I fuck you, Harry?” It’s a dumb question to Harry, but to be expected from Liam; as much as Louis may have told him to do it, he wouldn’t want to do something Harry didn’t want.

Harry turns his face into the sofa, nose digging into the crack between the cushions, mouth open a little. It should be gross, who knows everything that’s happened on this couch given the occupants of this bus, but Harry doesn’t even think about it right now. Liam’s nudging the plug without meaning to, on the backstrokes of his touches to the tail, and his thick knuckles are soft against Harry’s rim. Harry half-expects the toy to buzz to life again, but it doesn’t, and that’s almost worse, because Harry _needs_ friction and _motion_ right now. “Please,” he whispers, repeats it louder when it’s clear Liam hasn’t heard. “Liam, please.” 

“Yeah, yeah, Haz,” Liam nods, pats at Harry’s arsecheek without giving it much thought, looking around for- there it is, of course, the bottle of lube Louis said he’d left, half-tucked between two cushions. He leans over Harry to reach for the bottle, his jean-clad thighs brushing Harry’s bare skin and making him shiver. “D’you need some more of this for me to uh, take it out?”

Harry makes a displeased sound, because although he’s pretty sure Liam means the lube, he can’t exactly _see_ , and.

“You can move, Harry,” Liam clarifies, knows that Louis can be awfully specific with his instructions sometimes, and Harry wouldn’t be Harry if he weren’t obedient to a fault.

Looking over his shoulder, Harry nods. “A little? Please, Li, want-”

“I’ve got you,” Liam assures him, uncaps the bottle but then flicks it back closed and sets it down, on second thought. Harry makes a sound of complete and utter horror and distress, twisting his head down into the cushion, and Liam has to reach out to steady him with a hand at his hip. “Just getting my cock out, Harry, calm down,” he rushes, undoes his fly and barely pulls his dick out of his underwear, mindful of zipper teeth. He opens the lube again and slicks himself first, and only then does Harry realize that he’s getting ready to fuck him right away as soon as he pulls the plug out, and, oh.

“Oh, please,” he whimpers, can’t help himself, “Liam, Liam, please- hurry- need- yes, yes.” The words are all spinning around in his brain, don’t really make sense even to Harry, it’s just that he’s been waiting what seems like forever, and he doesn’t know how to explain to Liam any other way how badly he wants this. 

Liam’s never taken a plug out before, but Harry’s starting to shake in earnest now, full body tremors he can’t seem to help, and Liam’s only seen him like this a few times before. Each of those times, Louis was no-nonsense, getting Harry what he needed quickly, so Liam takes his lower lip between his teeth and doesn’t hesitate before rubbing lube-slick fingers around Harry’s rim and finding the grip on the plug, fingers tightening in it through the tufted fur. “Tell me if- if it’s bad,” he mutters, and twists his wrist a little, trying to ease the plug back. 

Harry keens, a hand coming up to shove his knuckles in his mouth, lips red and slick and obscene against his pale skin. He gets louder when Liam, startled, stops moving the plug, so Liam spreads Harry’s left cheek with his free hand and keeps pulling carefully, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when the flared end of the plug pops out and he can pull the rest out easily. He considers moving Harry, settling him on his back on the sofa with a leg draped over the back, but they’re both too desperate, Harry with his cheek smushed into the seat and a half-lidded eye on Liam and a couple of his fingers in his mouth, Liam with his cock so hard it’s pressing against his tummy, smearing it shiny with lube. He drops the plug on Harry’s rumpled t-shirt on the floor and pulls Harry back a little by the hips, enough that his feet are steady on the ground. Then, he fists his cock around the base, lines up, and pushes into Harry without another word or warning, firm and steady, savoring the warmth and wetness and Harry’s surprised, needy moans.

Liam’s longer than the plug and his entire prick is thick as its widest point, but he sinks in easy and Harry doesn’t have time to react until he’s deep and firmly bottomed out, his jeans rough against the backs of Harry’s thighs. Harry can’t help his moan, the way he goes breathlessly tight around Liam and can’t quite will himself as relaxed as he usually is. The wait’s made him anxious and greedy, and the relief of having something to bear down on is overwhelming. 

“Jesus, Harry, ‘d think you’d be a bit more-” Liam gasps, grinding his hips into Harry’s arse like he can’t help it. “Less tight,” he finishes, managing to drag halfway out and push back in hard, bracing a hand at the small of Harry’s back, the heel of his palm fitting perfectly between the dimples above Harry’s bum.

Harry groans and goes up on his toes, trying to squirm back further onto Liam’s dick. The drag every time Liam moves is so good that he can’t be bothered trying to respond, wholly wrapped up in the sensations, chasing the feeling of being so perfectly full. 

Liam’s pace is hard and fast, rocking Harry on the arm of the sofa with every thrust. He’s sure the boys must be able to hear Harry in the front lounge, whining and moaning loudly, almost like he’s trying to get Louis to hear him being good, doing as he was told and making Liam feel good. The thought that, like Louis said, Harry would be willing to do anything for Liam right now is enough to get him hotter, make him go faster as the warmth pools in his belly.

The fuzziness has been lingering since Louis told Harry to bend over the couch arm and not touch himself, at least an hour ago, and it’s risen and fallen since then, waves creeping slowly up the shore of Harry’s brain. Now it all comes rushing in, and he’s gone before he can check that it’s alright, knocked over into the surf of white noise by the simple pressure of Liam’s hands settling on his hips and yanking him back on a particularly fierce thrust. Harry goes quiet and limp, everything spinning a little, delicious warmth creeping up his spine that isn’t entirely arousal. He just feels so _nice_ and taken care of, Liam fucking him exactly like Louis promised he would. 

Liam notices the change, ever so perceptive and aware of his surroundings, and he slows his pace a little, trails a shaky hand up the dip of Harry’s spine. It’s not his first time seeing Harry like this, though, and he’s at ease knowing that Louis is close by in case Harry needs him, delicate as he is like this. “Alright, Hazza? Yes or no?”

“Y-yeah,” Harry manages, rubbing his face against the cushions of the couch. The soft pleather is cool against his flushed cheeks and it feels smooth and comforting. Sometimes when he goes under there will be someone there for him to bury his face in their lap, and he likes that, but this is nice enough for now. Liam is very close, and he’s paying such good attention to Harry that he can’t feel too lonely, drift too far. Harry does shift a little, because his legs are tired, but that’s alright, Louis likes him to be careful and not hurt himself, Louis would understand. The move presses his chest down into the cushion as well, and the wetness the smears across his skin when he does so is a surprise, makes him keen for Liam. “I didn’t- didn’t mean to,” he stammers, brushing fingers over his chest and rubbing them back off against the cushions, looking back at Liam to see if he’s done something wrong. 

Liam just stares at him for a moment, going still and grinding slowly against Harry’s arse. Harry’s eyes are so wide and his pupils are dramatically blown, dizzyingly dark. “Sorry, sorry,” Harry whimpers, and Liam still doesn’t understand until he leans forward to see Harry’s fingers clenching on the edge of the couch, damp and leaving white marks on the cushion. 

“Jesus,” Liam gasps, feeling his prick twitch painfully and the subsequent whimper from Harry, the way his body clenches down not even a surprise now. He reaches forward and gets a hand under Harry’s stomach, fingers edging over the cut of his hip. Everything is tellingly messy, wet with what is obviously Harry’s come. Liam pulls his hand back and smears it over Harry’s arse, groaning. “Shit, shit. You’re good,” he assures Harry, because he’s still looking back worriedly, and Liam might be a second away from passing out at how hot this all is, but he can’t let Harry wonder if he’s been bad. 

“Good,” Harry echoes, relieved and breathy, and rocks his hips back tentatively, encouraging Liam to keep fucking him hard and fast like before. He’s doing his best, and although he likes the slightly uncomfortable, achey feeling of being fucked after he’s come anyway, he makes an extra effort to clench as little as possible around Liam, to stay loose and let Liam fuck him hard, use him and come because of him and how good his arse feels.

There’s no way Liam can disappoint him, either. He comes fast after Harry, fucks him through it and keeps rocking their hips together until it’s just too much. He pulls out slowly, holding Harry open with one hand and rubbing his thumb over his arsehole when he’s taken a step back, his other hand cupping his softening cock. Harry’s gone absolutely still over the arm of the couch, but he twitches at the unexpected contact, thighs shifting. “You’re good,” Liam assures him again, voice rough from having held back the noises he could’ve so easily made. “So good, Harry, shit.”

Harry makes an appreciative sound, knows Louis would have him thank Liam for both the fuck and the compliments but he can’t quite find his words yet. The come beneath him is going tacky, and he doesn’t exactly want to stick to the cushions, but he’s much too tired to move without help, too floaty to think about where he’d go once he moved. Liam will help. Harry knows he will.

Liam tucks himself in carefully and buttons his fly but doesn’t bother with the zipper. He’ll change as soon as he gets Harry settled. Harry, who is boneless and dead weight as Liam gets hands under his armpits and draws him up. “C’mon,” Liam mutters, “Just a bit longer and Louis’ll be taking care of you, mate, just hang on. Gotta get you to bed first.” 

“Louis,” Harry whispers croakily, happily, turns in Liam’s arms to snuffle against his shoulder. His legs are wobbly, and he’ll need Liam’s help to walk- to bed, yes. Bed’s good and warm and comfy. “Thank you, Liam,” he says before he can forget, curling his fingers up in Liam’s shirt.

“You’re welcome,” Liam replies, gently detangling Harry’s fingers from his tee a little too late, grimacing at the come smears left behind. “Can you walk, Haz? I- honestly dunno if I can carry you, you’re sort of huge, but we could wait.”

“‘f you help,” Harry nods earnestly, “can do it.” He smiles up at Liam and Liam has to smile back, helplessly. He rearranges his arms around Harry a bit more tightly and moves them to the door, opening it quietly. There’s still the usual noise and shouting coming from the front lounge, and nobody seems to hear or take notice as Liam maneuvers Harry into his lower bunk, tucks in all his long limbs and pulls the sheet up to his chest. “There y’go,” he says. “I’ll, um. Go take care of- stuff, yeah? And get Louis, he’ll want to check on you.”

“Liam,” Harry mumbles, and Liam turns back to him. “Yeah, Haz?”

“Thanks,” Harry slurs a little bit, still feeling floaty, and reaches up to pull Liam in by the neck, peck his lips with a pleased hum. Liam smiles into the kiss and pets Harry’s sweat-damp curls as he pulls away, nodding.

Harry drifts off, and Liam must be superman, because Harry doesn’t notice him passing the bunks again but he must, because suddenly Louis is there, kneeling in the hall, rubbing Harry’s shoulder. “Hi, Haz, baby,” he whispers. “Liam says you were so good, were you good?”

“Lou,” Harry grins, eyes going crinkly and cheeks dimpling, and he almost falls out of the bunk trying to lean out and hug Louis. It makes Louis laugh, so Harry will count it as a victory. “I was good, I- well,” Harry bites his lip. Louis _did_ tell him he could come for Liam, but he’s not sure he could come first. Liam didn’t seem to mind. “I came but didn’t- notice, before Liam.”

“Oh?” Louis asks, but he’s shrugging out of his shirt and he doesn’t sound too surprised. Maybe Liam already told him, Harry thinks. That wouldn’t be too bad. He certainly doesn’t seem upset. “That’s so hot, Haz, was it good anyway?”

“Uh huh,” Harry nods enthusiastically, winces a little at the feeling when he wriggles his bum. He’s still got Liam’s come in him, the tiniest bit stained along the curve where his bum meets his thigh, and he _likes_ it, but he’s admittedly a bit sore both from the plug and Liam’s cock.

“How’d you feel, love?” Louis is unscrewing the cap on a water bottle now, magically appeared in his hands, and Harry is suddenly more thirsty than he’s ever been in his life. Louis holds the bottle for him, carefully trickles it into his mouth. 

Not spilling the water everywhere can be counted as a victory when Harry’s still feeling fuzzy around the edges, still having to turn over every word before he says it, sticking on his tongue on the way out. “Good,” he sighs, nuzzling Louis’ hand. “Am I good?”

“So good,” Louis says, “I’m so pleased with you, Haz.” He pets Harry’s hair back from his face and lets him have another sip of water before he sets the bottle down. “Can I see, love?”

Harry nods, chews on his soft lower lip as he rolls over carefully. He knows Louis is extra patient when he’s like this, willing to offer help, and all it takes is an embarrassed, blushing glance for Louis to take hold of his hips gently and settle him on his tummy, smoothing a soothing hand down Harry’s back. “Sorry,” Harry mumbles, sheepish, because even just Louis’ presence and touch is enough to push him under a little more, sometimes.

"You're alright," Louis says gently, eyes crinkling. "I just want to see, just have to lay still for me and lemme take care of you, yeah?"

Knowing he can be still, and can _definitely_ let Louis take care of him, Harry nods, makes a sound of agreement. Louis leans in and slowly pulls Harry's thighs further open in the sheets, hands sliding over his small bum encouragingly. "So pretty, Harry," he says, keeping his voice quiet and soothing as he digs his fingers in a little, spreads him open. "Oh baby, you're still so wet."

Harry whimpers, struggling to decide between burying his face in the sheets and trying to look back at Louis. Liam didn’t clean him out, and he’s sticky and still feels so _full_ , so stretched. “‘s nice,” he mutters, cheek smushed into a pillow, breathing as steadily as he can.

“Liam stretched you good, yeah?” Louis runs his thumb down the crack of Harry’s arse, deliberately, slow enough Harry can let him know if it’s the bad kind of too much. “Left you all pink and full, are you sore, Haz?”

“Bit,” Harry croaks, has to fist his hands in the sheets to keep from curling in on himself, overwhelmingly happy to have Louis’ hands on him like this again, finally. “‘s big.”

Louis carefully presses Harry’s arsecheeks open further with one hand, drawing his other thumb down and rubbing around Harry’s rim. It’s still slick from lube and Liam’s come, and Harry twitches under the contact. Louis presses at his hole firmly, but doesn’t push inside, squeezes his bum with his free fingers. “Would you like me to clean you up, Harry, so you’re not all dirty for the show tonight? Might help the ache, too.”

Harry loves Louis’ touch, the way he’s always so gentle when Harry’s feeling far away like this, and he’d be willing to say yes just knowing Louis would like it, too, always so happy to take care of Harry when he needs it. Combined with the discomfort, it’s an easy decision. “Please,” he sighs, nuzzling the pillow.

“Tell me if it’s too much, alright?” Louis reaches up to rub at Harry’s shoulder briefly, kisses his side. “I’m trusting you to let me know if it does.” 

“Promise,” Harry nods, doing his best to look over his shoulder at Louis, giving him a mellow smile.

Louis is still kneeling in the hallway, but he draws the curtain now so it’s bunched around his shoulders, gives them the illusion of privacy. None of the boys would dare intrude, anyway; when Liam had emerged it had been pretty obvious what had been going on, and they all know how protective Louis is when it comes to Harry, how seriously he takes his responsibility to take care of his boy. But it makes it seem a little more intimate, a space just theirs for the moment, and as much as Louis likes sharing, likes showing Harry off, he likes when this is just for them, too. 

He leans up and into the bunk, rearranging his arms around Harry’s thighs and massaging at his bum with open palms, drawing his blunt nails lightly down the little curves that lead from Harry’s lower back to his arse, and again from his arse to his legs. He plants tiny kisses, too, up his legs and then over his entire arse until Harry is squirming under his grasp, shoving his bum up and back. “Fuck,” Louis breathes, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead to Harry’s closest thigh for a moment. “I want you so bad, baby, you look so good right now.”

Harry’s overwhelmed with the attention, the relief of getting to hear and feel Louis after what feels like so long, now, having waited for him alone and then with Liam. It isn’t about Liam being less good- it’s just, Liam doesn’t quite have the same effect on him as Louis, and even now that Louis is just touching him and looking at him and talking to him, Harry’s floating much more than he did with Liam, down and absolutely gone for the way he can feel Louis’ breath and skin, clear through the fog. He makes a high, whimpering sound, needy and encouraging, mouth half-open.

“It’s alright,” Louis reminds him, “I’ve got you, you’re being so lovely for me and I’ve got you. I promised to fuck you tonight, remember? But right now I’m going to make you feel so nice.”

Sighing, Harry nods into the pillow. He’s got his eyes closed, and he can’t really remember if Louis can see him nodding like this, so he adds, belatedly, “Yeah, Lou.”

“My sweet boy,” Louis hums, sucking a kiss to the pretty curve below one arsecheek, leaving a pink mark for Harry to press his fingers against later. “You smell like Li.” It’s not accusing, just fond, but Louis nips at the love bite he’s just left, a quick reminder that neither he nor Harry, nor Liam, for that matter, can forget who Harry is really with. Louis noses up, spreading Harry again with his palms and breathing over the sensitive, damp skin. He leans in without hesitation, pressing his face in after a long breath and opening his mouth against Harry, pressing his tongue where his thumb had been before, the same amount of pressure, the same test to gauge the reaction.

Harry feels like his whole body is shaking with need- probably is, for all he knows- and he pulls at the sheets, sucks hard on his own lower lip. Louis’ tongue is wet and hot and _good_ , soothing, and Harry wriggles his hips, pushes his bum out for Louis, eager.

Louis licks carefully at him, keeping it slow, tongue moving in soothing swipes and slides, a figure-eight to break the pattern, make Harry gasp. He hums against Harry’s skin, approving, encouraging, and presses his tongue in. Harry’s so slick and _used_ that Louis’ tongue dips in easily, and Louis moans, more for Harry’s sake than his own.

“Oh, oh, _oh_ ,” Harry squeaks, a breathy mess of incoherent sounds and jerky movements, eyes screwed shut and head tucked in, pillow shoved against the bunk wall. Louis feels amazing inside, a different kind of solid than the toy or Liam’s cock, somehow warmer and _more_. It may have something to do with how much he’s had, today, the way even though he’s exhausted, Louis’ tongue feels so good licking him clean.

Louis kneads his fingers into Harry’s soft little bum, thinks how the marks will look later- they won’t be as permanent as the love bite, but he should still be able to see them after the show, the reds and whites of his touch branding _mine mine mine_. Harry’s making the prettiest sounds into his pillow, and even though Louis wrinkles his nose at the taste (later he’ll jab Liam in the ribs and tell him off for having a burger at McDonald’s when he could follow Harry to catering for a fruit cup, just to be a shit), it’s still good. 

He likes doing this for Harry, whether it’s to open him up or to get him to relax, a lead-up or just for the sake of the act itself, or like now, something to comfort them both, reassure them after the fact. He begins moving his tongue in time with the movements of his fingers, rocking Harry back against his mouth, shallowly fucking him, and he can feel the spit and slick against his chin, but that’s alright. He’ll clean Harry up like he promised, he just- it’s alright to get him a little dirtier first.

Harry moans without restraint- when he’s out and can’t form words to tell Louis how good it is, he makes up with a constant stream of whimpers and groans, restless jerks of his hips and half attempts to get on his knees with how far up he’s pushing his arse. It doesn’t take long for his cock to twitch, with the way Louis is fucking shallowly into him, tongue nudging all the right places inside Harry, and he needs- “Lou,” he gasps, pulling at the sheets like it’ll stop Louis, “don’t-”

Louis pulls back immediately, panting, one hand going to the small of Harry’s back and rubbing small, comforting circles into his spine. “Whazzit, Haz, what, y’alright?”

Harry has to think step by step- open his eyes, then let go of the sheets, then try to steady his breathing, then speak. “I’m- wanna wait,” he mumbles, licking his lips and curling up, shoulders twisted so he can lean on his side with his legs still in place. “For later, yeah?”

“For me,” Louis clarifies, gently. “Alright, Haz.” He kisses at Harry’s tailbone and pushes at his upper back carefully until he falls flat again. Ducking his head, he kisses, close-mouthed, against Harry’s arsehole. “I’ll be quick, yeah? Can you handle a finger?”

“Uh huh,” Harry nods, reaching a hand up to push through his own hair, tangled and sweaty. “Quick, please.”

“Quickest,” Louis promises. He sucks his first finger into his mouth, slurps around it until it’s dripping, presses his grin into Harry’s bum cheek at Harry’s following moan. He licks into Harry’s arse again, gentle little laps of his tongue until he’s as far as he can manage, and presses up, stretching Harry open on his tongue so he can slide the finger in without friction. When he’s managed that, he pulls his tongue away, switching places, holding Harry open on his finger so he can lave at him with his tongue. Harry keens, and Louis can’t help smiling, face pressed into his arse as it is. 

He’s making a real mess now, but it’s purposeful, tongue cleaning Harry out firmly, practiced, leftover come dribbling past the corners of his mouth and down his chin, down around Harry’s balls. When he’s dealt with the majority of the clean-up, Louis switches tactics, swapping his finger and tongue in rhythm. It means he can talk more, quiet reassurances that he’s being quick as he curls his finger inside Harry, hummed encouragement as he licks out what he’s found until Harry is wriggling again and Louis is convinced he won’t be leaking in his trousers on stage. 

He draws back, removing his finger gently and licking in broad strokes over Harry’s hole until he’s shiny only with spit. Louis presses one hand into the small of Harry’s back then, “Don’t move just yet, love.” 

He ducks out of the bunk momentarily to find the water bottle he’d knocked over without realizing, and uncaps it, soaks the corner of a tee-shirt left at the corner of the bunk. “Might be a bit cold, just need to be sure you won’t get crusty balls, babe.” He grins a little at the ridiculousness of it, and Harry snorts into the pillow. 

Louis is as careful with the wet shirt as he was with his tongue and fingers, patting Harry clean from the top of his bum down his crack, gently over his hole, down to his balls and the creases of his thighs, and then working back up with a clean corner of the soft tee-shirt material. “Alright,” he decides, nudging Harry’s hips up and spreading the soiled tee-shirt beneath him, “c’mere, you. You’re going into Zayn’s bunk until I can change the sheets here.” 

Harry protests vaguely, but big and floppy as he is, Louis manages to roll him out of the bunk without getting himself dirty again, and hauls him across to Zayn’s bunk, tucking him under the covers carefully. Louis pats his shoulder and kisses his forehead, finger-combing the worst of the snarls out of Harry’s curls. “Alright now?”

Harry nods minutely, yawning and tilting his head into Louis’ touch. 

“I want you to nap for a bit before we get to the venue,” Louis murmurs, “I need to get these sheets into the laundry bin before the other lads decide to come back here, but I’ll come back if I can, okay?” 

Harry is reminded of Liam having to leave to clean up, too, and wishes drowsily that they were at home, and didn’t have to worry about that kind of thing. But he nods again, because he understands, and he thinks it’s lovely of Louis to take care of everything for him like he does. It’s the right response, anyway, because Louis smiles proudly at him and leans down to kiss his cheek again. “Sleep well, Hazface,” he whispers. 

Harry doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he remembers half-waking later, when voices fill the hallway. They’re not loud, just a warm presence. First it’s Zayn’s, fond and inquiring, and then his Louis’, laughing and relieving. Harry opens his eyes and Zayn waves to him from Niall’s upper bunk opposite, and then Harry can’t focus on anything but Louis, the world’s worst case of tunnel vision, crawling into the bunk beside him and wrapping arms around his waist. His words smell like mint, pressed into Harry’s mouth, “Hi, Hazza,” and Harry smiles muzzily back. He sleeps better, then.


End file.
